


The First To See the Dawn

by farad



Series: Modern Mercenaries [2]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 21:12:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17271215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: Set in my Modern Mercenaries universe, the boys struggle with Buck's illness and Chris' mission abroad.





	The First To See the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Boogie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boogie/gifts).



> This is incomplete; I have the rest of the story going, but time has not been kind to me this holiday season, so I am posting the first part of it now with a promise to finish it quickly.

“ _For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”_ \- Oscar Wilde

 

 

 

“It is possible.” Buck stared at the mirror, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

 

No, Vin corrected himself in his own mind, no ghost here, not now, not for a damned long time. Leastways, not any of them. Weren’t none of them going to join the likes of Ella Gaines.

 

“You’re just as sexy as you’ve always been,” Chris said with a sigh, as if this were a conversation they had every day.

 

But it wasn’t. This was completely new for the three of them. Not in a good way.

 

Buck lifted a hand, touching his bare head. “I can’t believe it’s all gone.” There was a mournfulness in his tone that made Vin smile, despite himself.

 

“Of all the – seriously?” Chris said, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is the thing that upsets you most?”

 

Vin saw the set of Chris’ jaw and knew that he was not finding anything funny about this at all. But then, it was too close to him, too much like things that had happened some years back, before Vin had come into their lives.

 

“Hell, of course not,” Buck shot back, still rubbing his bald head, his eyes moist. “It’s just . . .” His voice cracked a little and he stopped talking.

 

Chris’ jaw tightened more, but it wasn’t anger this time, or, more like, frustration. It was pain. “Hey now,” he said, uncrossing his arms and dropping his hands on to Buck’s shoulders. “You know you’re as sexy as ever – hell, maybe more!”

 

He was trying to be light, to reassure, but Vin heard the edge of desperation in his voice. It was a desperation he felt as well.

 

“Think he needs a big gold earring,” Vin said, trying to ease the tension. “Hell, Buck, you’ve always said you’d make a good pirate. Here’s your chance to prove it.”

 

Buck swallowed then tried for a wide grin. He didn’t quite make it, but he was trying. “You got me there, pard. Have to get on Amazon and see about some pirate gear.” His eyes met Vin’s in the mirror, and Vin smiled at him.

 

“Right now, let’s get you something to eat,” Chris said, tugging at Buck’s shoulders, then, as Buck tried to turn around, catching him at the waist. Buck’s steps were unsteady, his long body gaunt and ungainly.

 

As they came through the bathroom, Vin fell in behind, ready to help if they needed it. But Buck got steadier the more steps he took, and Chris settled him carefully on the couch. As he stood up, Vin eased in with a lightweight blanket, draping it over Buck’s lap.

 

“I ain’t helpless,” Buck said, but it there was no heat in it.

 

“What you think you can keep down?” Vin asked, leaning down closer to touch his lips to Buck’s forehead. It was unusually warm and dry and strange without the thick hair that Vin had become accustomed to.

 

“Not much of nothing,” Buck sighed, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the back of the couch. “Mostly want to sleep.”

 

“You’ve got to eat something,” Chris said, his voice tight. “You’re losing too much weight.”

 

Vin turned to his best friend and shook his head. This wasn’t the time. Chris glared at him, but he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he waved a hand toward the kitchen. “I picked up some of that soup you like, the one like Nettie makes, with the avocado and pumpkin. I’ll heat some of it -”

 

He was interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. He fumbled it from the pocket of his black denim jeans and glanced at the caller id even as he started to press the ‘cancel’ icon. “Travis,” he muttered. “I’d better take this.” He looked at Vin who nodded, both in approval of his decision and in indication that he’d get the soup.

 

Chris answered the call with a curt, “Larabee,” as he turned and walked toward the door to the hallway.

 

“If it’s a job, you’d better take it,” Buck said. His eyes were still closed and the morning sun, streaming through the windows at the end of the room, didn’t flatter him any. He looked washed out, his skin so thin that the veins showed clearly within. He hadn’t just lost the hair on his head; his mustache was so thin that it seemed more like that of a teenager, and his eyebrows were also disappearing.

 

“Reckon you don’t need to worry ‘bout that,” Vin said, reaching out to touch the other man’s face. “We’ll do what needs doing, which, right now, is taking care of you ‘til you beat this thing.”

 

Buck sighed but didn’t open his eyes. He turned his face into Vin’s hand, rubbing against it as he mumbled, “Chris can’t stand this. You got to make him get out and work, Vin. You’ve got to. Ain’t no use in me going through this and coming out the other side if he ain’t there ‘cause he’s worked himself into a stroke.”

 

At one level, it was good to hear Buck’s optimism about the situation; he wasn’t giving up, even though the effects of the treatments were taking their toll.

 

But on the other hand, getting Chris to take a break from caring for Buck, from being here . . .

 

Vin considered it as he made his way to the kitchen and set to work heating some of the homemade soup that Nettie Wells, the head of their intelligence unit, had made for Buck. It was thick and rich and completely organic, no preservatives or additives that might complicate his treatments.

 

It was one of the few things that Buck could keep down, though only in very small amounts. At Nathan’s suggestion, they tried to feed Buck about every two hours, even if it was nothing more than a few spoonfuls of soup or a few crackers. Anything to keep his metabolism working.

 

Vin was pouring the soup into a soup bowl when Chris walked into the kitchen. His stride was steady and even – not fast, not slow, but steady. An indication that he was not upset.

 

“He’s asleep,” Chris said, coming to a stop near the refrigerator, the divide between the kitchen proper and the eating area that made up the other half of the large room.

 

“Figured,” Vin said, though he didn’t stop his preparations. He put the soup bowl on a tray then turned to the pantry to find the saltine crackers. As of late, Buck had shown a preference for the small oyster crackers, saltines that were originally designed to go with oyster strew. A sort of saltine crouton, as Buck said, when he was feeling well enough to be humorous.

 

“Travis needs a team. Not a full operation, more a reconnaissance. He’s already run it past Ezra and Josiah, both of whom say they can handle it, but they still need a coordinator.”

 

Vin was glad his back was to Chris, as he barely managed to suppress the grin. “Reckon that’s you, then,” he said.

 

“You could do it,” Chris said. “It’s not that hard and you’ve done it before - “

 

“Ezra,” Vin said, letting the one word speak for itself.

 

After a few seconds, Chris sighed. “I don’t need this right now.”

 

Vin set the small bowl of oyster crackers on the tray and took his time tying the twist tie around the bag, so the grin on his face would pass. When he picked up the tray and turned back, he said calmly, “I can handle this, Chris. Might be a good ideas for you to take this – we can stand the money.” It wasn’t a lie – they got paid by the job, and right now, the three of them were losing a lot of income.

 

Chris grunted, as close to an admission of agreement as Vin knew he would voice. Knowing that this was a moment where he had an advantage, Vin continued, “Buck’s worried ‘bout you – and so I am. This is wearing on you – and yeah, I know, it’s wearing on all of us, Buck more than you or me. But he’s worried you’re gonna come out of it worse off than he is, and I can’t say I disagree. I got this. You go make us some money and get your head out of this for a while.”

 

Vin picked up the tray but stopped as an arm worked its way around his waist. It was followed by the press of Chris’ lean body against Vin’s back and the whisper of words into his hair. “Ain’t right for me to leave, not now.”

 

Vin set the tray back on the counter and leaned back into the embrace. “Buck and I can manage fine – hell, maybe even better without you underfoot and anxious. And it will help the team, too, to have something to do. This is grating on them, too – JD, ‘specially. You are taking him, right?”

 

He said it as if it were a forgone conclusion that Chris was going – because it was. He had heard it in the way Chris spoke, the wistfulness in his tone that spoke of the guilt he would have because he had left. But he was leaving.

 

“Way the job sounds, I’m gonna need everyone, ‘cept you. It’s mostly recon, so I don’t need a marksman. Though I’ll take ‘Nez; we need her for the cover and she can fill in if we need a spotter.”

 

Vin let himself relax slightly, taking advantage of this moment. They had been so focused on Buck over the past months that they hadn’t had many minutes to themselves. “Good plan,” he agreed. “Where’s the op?”

 

There was a slight hesitation, warning Vin that he wouldn’t like the answer. “Oman,” Chris said. “Travis thinks there’s something going on with the Saudis and the Houthis that we need to look into.”

 

Vin didn’t like it. “That ain’t reconnaissance. That sounds more like an op – Oman? Damn, Chris -”

 

“Shhh,” Chris murmured, holding him tighter and nuzzling into his hair. “Travis says we cannot intercede under any circumstances. It’s completely a recon, no action. We can’t jeopardize our relations with the Saudis, not at present. If they suspected we were spying on them – well, Travis made that very clear.”

 

Vin swallowed, thinking about the plan. Thinking about the team. “Be careful, Chris. Buck can’t afford for anything to happen to you.”

 

“Nothing’s going to happen to me. We’re not making any contact, just listening. Ezra will get close enough to drop a tracker, but that’s it. Nothing else.”

 

Vin drew in a deep breath, trying not to let the feel of Chris’ long body pressed close distract him. But it wasn’t easy.

 

As if knowing his mind, Chris murmured, “Could stand a few minutes alone with you right now. Seems like it’s been a decade since we had any time together . . .”

 

Before Vin could sort out a response, there was a short burst of sounds, like rain on a metal roof. His own phone was ringing. With a sigh, he pulled it from his pocket even as he pressed back harder against Chris, feeling the other man’s erection against his ass.

 

But Chris moved away, as he always did when a phone rang: business always came before pleasure with him.

 

And it was even more ironic that the caller was Ezra. Of course.

 

Vin sighed and shook his head, debating whether to answer or turn off the ringer. Chris made the decision for him. “I’ll take this to Buck. You see what he needs.”

 

Vin glanced at Chris, irritated, but he managed to catch the words before they came out of his mouth. Instead, he directed them toward Ezra as he snapped into the phone, “What?”

 

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, long enough for Vin to regret his tone. Then Ezra said evenly, “My apologies if this is a bad time -”

 

“Sorry, we were hashing out this mission to Oman,” Vin said, breaking in before Ezra worked himself into some sort of snit but also making it clear that he knew what was going on and the extent to which Chris was going to be involved.

 

“Then you are coming, too?” Ezra said, and though his voice was still even, Vin heard the slight catch in it. No surprise there, either.

 

For an instant, Vin considered leading Ezra along, letting him think that he wasn’t going to have Chris all to himself.

 

But truth be told, he simply didn’t have the energy for it. “Of course I’m not,” he said tiredly. “So why are you calling me?”

 

Ezra sighed audibly, the sound making it clear that he felt he was being put-upon. “I was calling out of a sense of respect, though perhaps I should reconsider.”

 

Vin frowned. He found himself standing before the back door, staring out into the pasture beyond. It was getting into winter, though here in New Mexico, you didn’t feel it much during the day. The nights were getting colder, but right now, they weren’t out enough to tell.

 

Those thoughts kept him from appreciating Ezra’s subtlety – and from becoming more annoyed by it. And his silence worked to make Ezra get over himself, as it often did.

 

“I know this is a difficult time for all of you,” Ezra said eventually, his voice low and unusually sincere. “And I suspect that you are not best pleased that Chris is going to be away on an operation without either of you. And, perhaps more to the point, with me.”

 

Vin drew in a breath. While the attraction Ezra felt for Chris was clear to all of them, it was not something Ezra had admitted to, at least not to Vin or Buck. Chris tended to ignore any discussion of the point, something that Buck found amusing and Vin found disconcerting. “Reckon you’re a professional,” Vin said slowly, choosing his words with care. “And this ain’t no rookie mission from the sound of it.”

 

Ezra made a low sound, sort of like a sigh, then said, “No, it is not. And as such, it will require a great degree of concentration from all of us. There will be no time for thoughts of . . . anything else.”

 

Vin grinned, despite himself. “You’re telling me that you ain’t making a play for Chris while you’ve got his undivided attention?”

 

The annoyance coming from the other side of the connection was palpable. For a time, Vin thought Ezra might hang up on him, and that thought made it hard not to laugh.

 

But eventually, Ezra answered, his voice sharp. “That is exactly what I mean.”

 

Then he hung up, leaving Vin to laugh despite himself. He knew he needed to call back and let Ezra know he accepted his show of good sportsmanship, though – and this he wouldn’t tell Ezra – it didn’t really matter. Chris was gonna do what Chris was gonna do, and there was little anyone – Ezra, Vin, or even Buck – could do but accept it. After all, hadn’t it been Chris’ decision to bring Vin into the house he already shared with Buck?

 

But Buck had been just as pleased with the addition, or so he said. And he did certainly act it, and not just in the bedroom.

 

Vin wandered into the living room to find Buck mulishly turning his head away from the spoonful of soup that Chris was holding up to him. It was a common enough sight these days, Buck’s stomach taking the side effects of the chemo to the limit.

 

“Chris,” Vin murmured as Chris tried to force the spoon between Buck’s lips. “Don’t.”

 

Chris blew out a breath and pulled back the spoon, though not without dribbling soup on the blanket Buck was wrapped in. Frustrated, he tossed the spoon into the bowl, splattering more soup, but most of it was on the tray. Vin glared at the other man even as he picked up a hand towel and started wiping up the droplets.

 

“You’ve got to eat,” Chris snapped, as much at Vin as at Buck.

 

For his part, Buck didn’t open his eyes or make any move at all, so Vin interceded, wiping carefully at the blanket as he did so. “He knows that, Chris. And you know he knows. Just back off. Being a bastard ain’t gonna help.”

 

Chris had his hands on his hips, his lips in a straight, hard line. He stood tall and for a few seconds, Vin thought he might actually come at him.

 

But before either of them could do or say anything else, Buck said softly, “Vin, you got more of that fine smoking weed? That might help more than anything. Chris, ain’t you got some packing to do?”

 

Chris’ lips thinned even more, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned on his heel and left the room, his steps sharp and loud even through the plush carpet.

 

Vin sighed then said, “Yeah, give me a minute.”

 

The pot had been suggested by one of Buck’s oncologists, and had it been legal to prescribe in it New Mexico, she would have. But since it wasn’t, Vin had resorted to one of his friends on the reservation, who happily sold it to him at cost, good quality stuff that Vin had no qualms about giving to Buck.

 

Chris was a little more old school on the issue, though he had stopped bitching about it when he realized that it was helping. He couldn’t, though, cave in on the issue with grace, so he did what he’d just done: storm off in silence, not speaking his thoughts on breaking the law but also not condoning it.

 

Vin went to his room – the bedroom that had been the guest bedroom until he’d moved in, and was now one of the two main rooms the three of them shared. They had invested in a new bed for it, a king that allowed the three of them to sleep in reasonable comfort, just as they did in the master bedroom, but this room was the room that was easier for Vin to feel at home in. His clothes and his books and his gun safe were in this room, and it was here that he had put the pipe and the weed.

 

He took a minute to change into his sweats and warm night shirt, knowing that at this point, he was not leaving. As he made his way back to the living room, he loaded the pipe with the marijuana, though he waited until he was sitting on the couch beside Buck to light it.

 

Buck took it eagerly, drawing in the smoke and holding it in his mouth. The change in him was almost instant, his drawn features relaxing as the feeling of nausea eased and, slowly, passed.

 

Vin felt his own tension ease a little, the product of the few hits he had taken lighting the pipe and the second-hand smoke from Buck’s smoking.

 

“It’s all right,” Buck said after a while, letting out smoke with the words. “He’s worried about leaving. And so are you – what the hell did Ezra want?”

 

Vin closed his eyes, thinking once more about the conversation and the strangeness that was Ezra Standish. “I think he wanted to tell me he wasn’t going to make a play for Chris, because he respects what you’re going through and he doesn’t think it’s fair to take advantage of that.”

 

Buck choked, coughing heavily for a few seconds and Vin almost panicked. Until he realized that the other man was laughing.

 

“What?” Vin asked, leaning in close to Buck, anxiously looking him over even as he got a little more annoyed.

 

Buck wheezed out another laugh but slowly settled, though he was still grinning and his eyes, for the first time in a while, were alive with with his natural humor. “Ol’ Ezra. Trying to be a good guy.”

 

Vin shook his head, confused. “You don’t think he means it?”

 

Buck’s grin widened. “ ‘Course he means it. That’s what’s so funny about it. He’s trying to do the right thing – which ain’t natural for him. As J’siah says, Ezra don’t operate on the same code the rest of us do. It’s what makes him so damned good as a spy. But it makes it hard sometimes to be his friend. He’s trying to be our friend, ‘specially right now. But it’ll be a real struggle for him if the opportunity presented itself.”

 

Vin thought on it for a few seconds, arriving at the conclusion that Buck was right. But before he could say anything, Chris was coming back into the room, his back pack on his shoulder and his leather jacket over one arm. “Travis just called and moved up the timeline. We need to be in the air in an hour.” He had moved into ‘mission mode’ as JD called it, a name which the rest of the team had readily adopted as well.

 

Vin pushed himself up and off the couch, stepping aside as Chris dropped to his knees in front of Buck. He reached out his arms, the jacket falling to the floor as he pulled Buck to him, holding him close. He spoke into Buck’s ear and Vin turned away, giving them space.

 

He made his way back into the kitchen, fumbling in the cabinet to find a travel mug for Chris and then a regular mug for himself. The old fashioned percolator, which he preferred, had been on since before dawn, and Vin knew the coffee would be far too strong for Chris, so he didn’t completely fill the travel mug, leaving enough room to add a lot of milk. Chris preferred it that way, anyway.

 

He was leaning on the counter, sipping from his own mug when Chris hurried into the room. He was now wearing his jacket and the backpack was on his back. His hair was tousled and his lips were swollen, a look that was far more distracting than usual.

 

But he was also all business now; his gaze was focused and though he moved in close to Vin, cornering him against the cabinet, it wasn’t sexual so much as predatory and hurried.

 

“You’re sure you’re all right with this?” he asked as he took the cup from Vin’s hands and set it on the counter. “I can cancel - “

 

“I’m fine and we’re fine,” Vin said, cutting him short. “You need a break, and I think Buck needs one too – no, I will not let him get by with anything, but there are other ways to get him to eat and to rest than bitching at him about it.”

 

“Yeah yeah,” Chris said, leaning in a catching Vin’s lips. The kiss was quick but not incidental. It was aided by Chris’ arms wrapping around Vin and pulling him in close and tight. “I’ll check in as often as I can.”

 

“I know,” Vin said – or tried to as Chris was kissing him again.

 

As he pulled back, Chris said, “Only be a week or so, probably not that long. You know where everything is – and you’re on Buck’s medical power of attorney, so -”

 

“I’ve got it,” Vin said, raising his fingers to Chris’ lips. “More to the point, you be careful. If you don’t come back -”

 

“I’ll be back,” Chris cut him off this time. “Back to you two.” He gave Vin one more squeeze then a quick kiss to the forehead before drawing away and reaching for the travel mug. “Thanks for this. Email me updates – I’ll check them when I can.” Then, before Vin could comment on the probability of that, he was gone, the door banging closed behind him as he hurried across the back porch and down the stairs toward the driveway.

 

Vin watched him go, appreciating, as he always did, the way Chris moved, graceful and confident, sure of himself and his view of the world. It was only as the car eased out of view that he sighed and turned back to what needed doing.

 

The rest of the day passed as had become the habit as of late; Buck spent most of the day asleep or drowsing on the couch, and Vin spent most of the day doing the things that needed doing on their small farm. In between washing clothes, feeding the horses and working in the yard, he managed to coax a few bites of food into Buck every hour or so, which really was about all he could manage at present.

 

But it was better than nothing. The docs had been pleased with how little weight, relative to most other patients, Buck had lost, though that fact didn’t seem to impress Chris overmuch.

 

Dusk came early, as it was already October, and Vin finished up outside as the last light was fading. He stood on the back porch for a few minutes, watching the stars come out, listening to the sounds of the night creatures coming out to find food. In the distance, a pack of coyotes barked, their sound quieting almost everything else. Behind him, he heard the cats trotting toward the door, knowing it was time to get inside if they wanted to eat and stay warm – and not have to spend the night hiding from the night predators.

 

As he made his way into the kitchen, the cats twining between his legs in their dance of love and death, he found Buck leaning against the counter, staring in to pantry. His expression was bleak.

 

“I was going to try to cook something for you, for staying here and taking care of me. But everything I look at makes me gag.”

 

Vin chuckled, reaching out to squeeze Buck’s shoulder as he passed. One of the cats, BG (short for Baby Girl, the name Buck had chosen and that had stuck, despite Chris’ dislike of it), jumped up on the counter, ignoring the rule against such, and nuzzled against Buck. Vin said nothing, knowing the cat was better comfort than almost anything.

 

Instead, he said, “I ‘preciate the thought, but ain’t no need. I’ll figure out something in a while. Right now, need to make sure these critters get fed. Then maybe work on your some more.”

 

He went about the feeding process, mostly dry food but they kept a can of wet in the fridge for the older cat who was having issues with too much dry food. Which, of course, meant that they had to feed both cats wet food, or BG would growl and hiss and generally run Taffy, the older cat, away from the food.

 

As soon as he opened the can, both cats were circling around him, meowling and rubbing and generally making it difficult for him to do anything.

 

“You know, I think Ezra was a cat in another life,” Buck said, still leaning on the counter and watching. “He acts just like one, all that hissing and spitting when he ain’t getting his way, but sweet and loving as he can be when you got something he wants.”

 

“Reckon so,” Vin said, straightening up as both cats hunched over their saucers, no longer interested in him or Buck. “Though with the cats, you know what it is that they want. Sometimes, I can’t tell with Ezra.”

 

He’d meant it lightly, to get Buck to laugh, but it seemed to have the opposite effect, as the other man frowned. It wasn’t a good look on him, now that he was missing all his hair, including the mustache that had always tempered his more severe expressions.

 

“You worried about him and Chris being together right now?” The question was soft, both in tone and pitch.

 

Vin frowned, not sure how to answer. As he thought about it, he realized that his concerns were a lot less important than Buck’s; after all, Buck had had to put up with Chris bringing Vin into their relationship. “Are you?” he finally asked.

 

Buck smiled, but there was sadness in it. “Reckon you know better than that,” he said, still in that soft tone.

 

And Vin did know – they’d talked about it often enough over the past year, but, anticipating Vin’s anxieties, Buck said it again. “Chris and I have never had that kind of claim on each other – it ain’t in either of our natures’ to be that tied down. You know how I feel about women, and he does too – always has. And I know how he is about women and men. We love each other and our commitment is to each other – and now, to you. But that don’t mean that we’re gonna give up finding pleasure from time to time with someone else.”

 

It was easier to accept it now than it had been the first time Buck had said it to him. Though it was still hard to believe.

 

But it was the way they were – open to sex with friends. And with him, they had become open to commitment.

 

And Vin realized that this was the first time he was dealing with Chris’ sexual interest in someone other than the two of them.

 

As he thought occurred to him, he saw Buck nod. “Past few years, he ain’t had time for nobody else, not with the two of us. But with all this going on with me, well .. .” Buck’s words trailed off and he looked away.

 

Vin moved toward him, but as he got close, Buck reached out, putting a hand to the center of Vin’s chest to stop him. He left it there, his touch warm and affectionate, but also keeping Vin at a distance. “I need for you to hear me, Vin – no, listen to me. I’ve said this to Chris, but he ain’t hearing me, so I need for you to. If the worst happens – no, hush up now, let me finish. I know that the odds are good that I’ll come through this, but there ain’t no guarantee. Even Nathan won’t make that promise. So I need for you to hear me on this: if things do go to the bad, you do whatever needs doing to keep Chris from giving up. He almost did it when Sara and Adam died. The only thing that held him together was the thought of finding who did it and getting his vengeance. With me, with this, that ain’t an option. If it takes letting Ezra in, you promise me that you’ll do it.”

 

Vin stared at the other man. Without the hair and mustache, with the loss of about thirty pounds, this man could have been a complete stranger. Certainly the words sounded that way.

 

But the voice was the voice he knew and as strange as the words were, he also understood them.

 

He sighed and shook his head, but it wasn’t denial. “You’re something else.”

 

Buck grinned at him. “Been trying to tell you that for years now, son.” His hand on Vin’s chest rose to cup Vin’s shoulder, drawing him closer. “Promise me.”

 

Vin sighed but nodded. “I’ll do what I can, if I have to. You really think . . .” But he didn’t finish the question because he knew the answer. Buck wouldn’t be talking about this if he didn’t think so.

 

They made love that night, not the raucous, high energy way they had done when the relationship between the three of them had started, or the way that he and Buck had done so many times on their own; Buck didn’t have the stamina for that – truth be told, he barely had the stamina for what they actually did, a combination of fondling and oral sex that ended with them spooned together, Buck’s long body wrapped around Vin’s.

 

As he drifted off to sleep, Vin remembered Ezra’s phone call, the promise not to do anything. He wondered how well that would stand up in the face of Chris’ showing even a smidgen of interest.

 

Though he didn’t wonder long. The dreams he had that night answered his rational mind – and his own imaginings on the topic.


End file.
